


When They Crash

by raistorm



Category: RWBY
Genre: Bumbleby - Freeform, F/F, IM ALIVE, the bees woke me up, woke me up inside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 01:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17694575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raistorm/pseuds/raistorm
Summary: Blake and Yang find comfort and rest in each other the night they arrive in Atlas. They skirt lightly around the question between them. Not too much. Not too little.  Just enough.





	When They Crash

_/I'm a flash, you were blinded by the love I had_   
_I'm a flash, the light could only get in through the cracks/_

 

The arrival to Atlas was not dramatic, though a foreboding of confrontation thrummed beneath terse hospitality. The Schnee’s were icy, indeed, but cordial. This was not eased by Blake’s presence among them. Her ears, though flat against her head, were beacons to her “otherness.”

Yang had discouraged her from hiding her ears, though now, seeing her partner’s discomfort, she wondered if that was a good thing or not. Especially considering their collective exhaustion and abilities to deal with fallout thereafter.

They were all ushered into guest rooms to recover, and Yang insisted they get their own room. Blake didn’t argue. There was no embarrassment between them about it. This privacy, while intimate, held no urgency or tension. It was about recovery. And in the wake of the past twenty four hours, it would be best for them to be in a quiet place to reflect and rest. No one else in the group needed to be involved. And no one protested.

The room, while not huge, was extravagant. The bed enticed them for a well deserved sleep. A deep sleep. Yang glanced at Blake, concerned. They both needed to shower, to wash off the blood, figuratively, and unfortunately, literally. It was a dark blanket on both of their psyches, but particularly Blake’s.

Blake glanced at the bathroom, then at Yang, questioning.

“You go first, I want to take a look at my arm,” said Yang, flexing her metal fingers. To be fair, her prosthetic had been glitchy since the fight. No major damage, but it was not as responsive as it was before. And her pinky finger now had an annoying twitch. Blake’s expression was a mix of gratitude and concern. She nodded.

As Yang tinkered with her prosthetic, exhaustion began truly seeping into her body. She felt so heavy.

Blake, now clean and visibly calmer, immediately plopped onto the bed after exiting the bathroom.

With great difficulty, Yang pushed herself from the desk and headed for the shower, not making eye contact with her partner. She could feel Blake staring at her… lack of real arm, but Yang wasn’t ready to bring the subject to verbiage. Her arm was her sacrifice. For them. They both new this. But now wasn’t the time for speaking. They knew this too.

So when Yang came out of the bathroom, she quietly reattached her prosthetic. In part because she felt naked without it, and in part because she figured she might be needing it. Two hands meant… well, she glanced at the bed.

There was no ceremony as Yang slid in beside Blake, who, semi-consciously, almost automatically, reached for Yang, who opened said arms to her.

Yang’s heart pumped, not yet used to this unspoken, yet undeniable shift in their relationship. She’d wanted this for so long, but didn’t know if Blake felt the same until now. And Yang, though happy, felt a bit wary. Was Blake sure? When did she start feeling this way?

There was a deep silence.

“During our time apart,” said Blake, in almost a whisper. Yang was sure she didn’t speak, how did she?

Blake readjusted, sensing the question, and pushed her head deeper into the crook of Yang’s neck.

“When I realized my feelings,” she said, earnest, feeling Yang relax under her. Yang chuckled lowly.

“Something, something distance and fondness,” said Yang, her body was so heavy.

Blake released a breath in mirth, and a purr-like sound escaped. Yang’s chest expanded in pure emotion and she held her tighter. They were both so, so tired. And they were both so comfortable.

“You,” said Blake, even quieter, barely awake, “you are so warm, Yang.”

Metal fingers threaded through dark hair. Yang turned her head and placed a chaste kiss on Blake’s crown. Tomorrow would bring more challenges. Atlas will not be easy for Blake. Yang made a silent vow to be on high alert during their stay here. Blake shouldn’t have to deal with all this on top of the trauma they just went through.

“I’m going to be okay, Yang.”

“Are you reading my mind or and am I actually speaking out loud?”

A low chuckle. “You’re pretty easy to read.”

Yang smiled. “Fair enough. I’m just concerned is all. I can’t help it.”

“I know you can’t, it’s something I find so…” Blake tried to decide on a word, “attractive… about you.” The upward lilt coupled with hesitation revealed Blake’s uncertainty. But it was hopeful. They haven’t talked about it yet, the first few steps were bound to be fumbling as they figured each other out in this light. Yang laughed.

“I think I can get used to this,” she teased, releasing some of the tension.

Blake took Yang’s face in both her hands, gently, looked her in the eyes, softly, and leaned in. Yang’s breath caught in her chest as Blake stopped inches from her lips. Both of their hearts pounding. Blake felt the need to speak. To open up. To reassure.

There was a heavy pause.

“I could write poetry about the way you look at me, Yang. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I’m not used to being treated the way you treat me. It’s… overwhelming. Not in a bad way. I’m just not accustomed to it,” there was a pause as Blake released a breath and Yang shuddered, “I have been trying my hardest not to think about kissing you since we stepped foot in this room, but I really, really want to kiss you,” said Blake trailing off into a whisper. “Can I?”

Yang couldn’t speak for a moment. She just looked at Blake, who was looking at her, waiting. Blake began to falter as the moment stretched.

Yang felt the world tilt.

She opened her mouth but no words came out. She nodded instead.

Blake pulled her into the softest kiss. It was slow, patient, deliberate. Blake’s hands touched the angles of Yang’s jaw, to the back of her neck, to threading her fingers through her hair, desperate to get as close as possible. Yang made this easier by wrapping her arms around Blake’s shoulders and waist, and they stayed like this for what felt like forever. Just feeling each other, knowing the other isn’t going anywhere.

It was Yang who pulled away, but they were both breathless.

“I, um…” Yang said.

Blake didn’t let her speak, but leaned in to kiss her again. Yang relented.

“Thank you,” said Blake with a deep breath, as she pushed her head into the crook of Yang’s neck. Yang could only open her arms wider and breathe just as deeply, finally relaxing.

“Blake… I,” she started, wanting to share her brimming feeling. Blake curled in closer, though, in a silent way if telling Yang she already knew so much. Yang sighed, full of swirling emotion, but understanding. This trauma was still between them, but it no longer had control. Sleep was what they needed most now. They would create a new world in the light of day. Tonight, they needed the “not-words,” the touch, the presence. A warm and calm air enveloped them like a blanket. Comforting, safe.

They drifted to sleep together, a deep, dreamless sleep. Holding each other.

Healing, together.


End file.
